Sanctuary anw-3

by John O'Brien

  “I’m out, sir,” Gonzalez calls.

  I turn, hand Gonzalez my carbine and the binders, and scramble out of the window onto the ramp. The warmth of the ramp, even in this shaded part of the building, is almost desert-like after the coolness of the building.

  “Next time I suggest something stupid like that, thump me over the head,” I say taking my M-4 back.

  “I’m on it, sir,” Gonzalez says. “But that was a no-brainer and a breeze.”

  “Everyone alright?” I ask. They all do the instinctive pat down before nodding.

  “Okay, let’s get out of here,” I say.

  “See you back at base, sir,” Gonzalez says and they march off towards the Humvee.

  “You ready?” I ask Robert as I watch the others cross the ramp, obviously telling war stories by the way their hands are moving as they talk.

  “Yep,” he answers.

  Okay, let’s get a move on then,” I say. We head for the helicopter sitting on the ramp as if it wonders what happened inside.

  I notice the feeling of “what have we go ourselves into” has diminished to a degree as if what just happened inside was a natural occurrence. It didn’t feel like a natural occurrence while it was happening but in the aftermath, the return to “normal” is quick. Granted, it was a small skirmish but the adrenaline was up and a skirmish is a skirmish. It brings back some of the past where we’d run mission after mission and have the feeling that each was just another one. We’d be back having a beer, and while talking about it some, it would seem more like just another day than a mission.

  We climb into the cockpit with the sun seeming to speed across the blue sky. We strap in and run through the check list. The rotors are soon turning in a blur overhead. I think again about having Robert with me but give a mental shrug and pull up on the collective, doing my best to keep the helicopter within the boundaries of the fort. The ground shrinks away as we gain altitude; the slight yet constant vibration much different than the vibration of the 130. The vibration of the 130 comes from seemingly all over where this one feels a touch side to side and up and down. I bank out towards the north and McChord.

  “Where are we going?” Robert shouts across the small space between us. His air-sense letting him know immediately that we’re heading in the wrong direction.

  “Running an errand for Lynn,” I shout back to which he merely nods.

  I see the two 130’s, one sitting in its solitude of retirement and the other keeping it company, parked on the ramp where we left them. They begin to fill our screen as I descend in front of them. I want to give plenty of leeway as the helicopter is still prone to launch itself in a random direction. I ease down until a bump and the rocking of the skids signifies contact with the ground. I then ease the collective all of the way down and we settle securely on the hard surface below.

  Debris and dust is blown outward from our rotor wash. The ramp used to be cleaned often but the lack of attention has allowed the dust to gather. This will be something to think about in the future as foreign objects can cause quite a bit of damage if ingested in the engines or can cause harm being blown around. I shut down with these thoughts flowing through my mind. Plus the reason I’m here. I feel bad for Lynn with her brother and mother not showing up, especially seeing she knows they were alive after the shit hit the fan. I feel like it’s my fault in a way after getting her spirits up telling her about them. That almost seems worse in a way. Well, someday we may have the opportunity to find out, I think eyeing the 130 off our nose as the rotors wind to a stop.

  I see what looks like a sheet of paper over on the base ops door and walk over. Lynn has written a note for her family, but it also mentions anyone else as well, and taped it to the door putting it inside an upside down plastic sleeve. It still seems secure with the copious amounts of duct tape she used. I turn back to the ramp wishing that Craig and Lynn’s mom were here for her and hoping they’re okay.

  We climb in the HC-130 – I just want to see inside it once again - and the aircraft seems to welcome us back as we enter. Being inside the aircraft, which saw us through our previous adventures and kept us safe throughout, gives me a sense of melancholy. The familiar smell brings back the memories of what we went through such a short time ago. The memories already fading to a degree but being inside is a reminder of how far we have come and, with that, also of how far we have yet to go. As we exit, I mentally give another thank you to the aircraft for seeing us safely through.

  We jump back in the helicopter and start it up. Being inside the 130, the gorgeous day, and being next to Robert brings a feeling of peace, replacing the melancholy feeling I had moments ago. It’s close to the feeling I used to have as we were loading up the Jeep for a day on the mountain bikes or some other adventure; the feeling of peace, calm, with the excitement that comes with the beginning of the day and the pleasure of being in each other’s company. The speeding rotors signify the helicopter is ready for another attempt at flight.

  We lift off into the blue of the sky which has a bleached look to it. The high, wispy, horse mane clouds have pushed further to the north and inland indicating that the front is slowly winning out. I tuck that away and just enjoy the moment. The vibrations course through the soles of my boots on the anti-torque pedals. The ground peels away as we gain altitude and bank over the base. The brown buildings below us, nestled between the brown fields and strips of gray roads, pass beneath. There becomes a disassociation with the ground as we fly overhead. The place no longer feels or looks like a ghost town as it does when driving through it. While the lack of movement does still seem odd to a point, it doesn’t seem as odd. Of course, it may be my concentration on keeping this beast airborne against its desire to find the closest tree and park in it.

  We hook up with I-5 and start south. I would love to do a nap of the earth flight – flying the contours of the land at a very low level - and always envied the rotor heads that ability however my skills are far from attempting it. I always enjoyed those flights when we would sneak in on insertions but I was always in the back. I always thought it would be so cool to fly like that. We would fly quite low in jets and in the 130 but it’s not the same. Turning south, I pick up movement on the Interstate below. It’s one of the semi’s carting a load of concrete partitions and heading in the same direction we are. Actual movement on the highway does seem strange after seeing the empty lanes for so long. Not actually that long ago but it sure seems like it. The sight warms my heart that we’re starting to make progress but it is also another reminder that we’ve only just started. Four miles of wall to build. What an undertaking? I think as we pass over the truck.

  I look ahead and see a large wall of dark smoke billowing into the sky just to the left of our nose. I’m guessing it’s coming from the burning of the neighborhood tracts. Ideally, I would like to have gone through each place and pulled supplies and such. Things like light bulbs, food, tools, etc. but we just don’t have that luxury. The bacteria and diseases that will spawn from so many bodies is a real threat to our survival as much, if not more, than the night runners. The roof of Cabela’s, along with its green awnings, comes into view quickly. The brown and olive drab of parked Humvees and other vehicles provides a stark contrast to the dark paved lot they are sitting on. Various large pieces of equipment are off to the east side of the lot. Three large cranes are the most prevalent among them and I already see that some of the partitions have been put in place. It has begun.

  Landing on the parking lot, which again is more of an arrival than a landing, I see I was mistaken when I thought the equipment was all cranes because I now see that one of them is a pile driver. Now where did Bannerman find one of those? I think waiting for the rotors to wind down. Great idea though. The group working on the wall are hammering tall I-beams into the ground and sliding the partitions in between. I wonder where Bannerman found those as well as there is a tremendous pile of them off to one side. The slots in them look like they’re just wide enough for the concrete sl
abs, which are stacked in an area beside them, to slide into. The noise of the pile driver hammering the steel beams into place gives a sense of normalcy; the sight of man-made objects and the corresponding noise we were accustomed to. I’m once again reminded of what a good team we have.

  I walk in and the noise of hammering continues. Only this time, it’s the supply teams working to build plywood partitions on the second floor. It’s only mid-afternoon but the amount of work and the number of changes makes it seem like I’ve been gone several days. I let Frank know we’re back and join up with the others to lend a hand with the interior building project. The plywood partitions are to create small rooms to give everyone a sense of privacy. This is a temporary solution but it’s better than all of us just lying on cots in the middle of the floor. It helps the psyche as well and gives a sense of permanence which helps us mentally cope with all that is going on; it gives a sense of future.

  The rest of the day passes by fairly quickly with the partitions finished to a large degree and progress made on the perimeter wall. All teams fold back into our haven as the sun hits the top of the trees and we meet again just prior to dinner.

  “How is the training program coming along?” I ask Lynn once we settle in together.

  “I’m not quite ready. I’ll need a couple of days yet. I would like to get a bulldozer to build a berm for a firing range,” she responds.

  “I’ll see what we can come up with,” Bannerman replies making a note.

  “How are the supplies holding out?” I ask Bannerman.

  “We’re doing okay. We could use some additional food though,” he answers.

  “Okay, I think Red Team is slated for one of the supply teams. Are we slated to go with Alpha or Bravo?”

  “Alpha,” Lynn answers.

  “We’ll make a supply run tomorrow if that’s what you had in mind,” I say.

  “That sounds good. We were also able to put an overhang on the roof,” Bannerman says.

  “Good deal,” I reply.

  “We managed to get about sixty feet of wall built today. That will increase in the coming days as we had to get everything set up first and that took a while,” Bannerman says addressing the group.

  “Awesome. Where’d you get that pile driver by the way? And great idea with the I-beams,” I say.

  “We found it in a construction yard along with the cranes. The beams were there as well and they got me thinking. I thought we were going to have a tough time engineering a way to put the wall up in the first place and it would take some time to figure a way to make it sturdy, and here these were. It was rather simple actually,” he says.

  “Well, good job nonetheless,” I say in return.

  I give a rundown of my day and there’s not really much to say after that. I ask Frank if he would keep track of the buildings we’ve been in for supplies so we can be more effective with our gathering. He said he’d mark them on the map. I also think about demolishing the buildings after we’ve finished with them but save that discussion for another time. We break and I head up to the roof with Robert and Bri; our now nightly ritual before dinner. That may change with the coming nightly training sessions but I would like for this to remain. We just may have to figure out a different time of the evening.

  We talk for a while amongst ourselves; really mostly small talk with Robert focusing on the short helicopter flight back and how much he wants to learn to fly it. I tell him it may be a while because I don’t even know how yet. Bri says she’s interested in learning as well and I tell them they’re welcome to study with me after their training with Lynn. I look to the edge of the roof and notice the thin steel plates that Bannerman had bolted into the concrete ledge lining the roof. They look to extend about five or six feet out from the roof’s edge which should, and I say should here because you never know what the night buggers can accomplish, prevent anything from gaining access to the roof. Looking past the overhang, the wall stands tall, although only a short section of it is actually upright. It’s a silent reminder of the changed world in which we find ourselves. It also stands in testimony to our endeavors and signals the start of a possible new beginning. The sun droops behind the mountains bringing a refreshing coolness to the late evening. A breeze picks up against our faces and it feels invigorating and energizing in a way. The last of the sun hangs above the line of mountains as if trying to hang onto its dominance of the sky; trying not to lose its grip on the day before it is finally pulled down. The sun setting is our clue that our time outside has come to an end. The night doesn’t belong to us. It’s time for the night runners to emerge; to prowl and hunt the streets.

  We rise with a sigh and climb down into the heart of the building. The entry doors have been secured and the aroma of warm food drifts throughout. The murmuring that usually comes when a group of people are gathered rises and falls as conversations take place. There’s movement as some move their stuff into one cubicle or another. This is so much better than traipsing around the world in a 130. As much as I’m not a fan of what happened to the world, I’m thankful we are here and safe for the moment. There is an underlying tension of knowing that could change in an instant; if the night runners find a way around the doors for instance, but for this particular moment in time, it feels good. Tomorrow is another day though and each day seems to bring a new challenge with it.

  Lynn makes an announcement at dinner regarding the nightly training sessions. We’ll gather an hour prior to sunset and begin class before dinner. The classes will go anywhere from an hour to two depending on what is being taught. The subjects will vary and each night will have a different trainer. That may change depending on the depth of the training and there may be times when a single class might extend over several days. She then gives a synopsis of the day and summarizes our progress. She ends with the plans for tomorrow which are basically the same as today with the exception of the teams on supply duty and the one in reserve.

  She finishes as the first of our nightly chorus section of poundings against our outside doors begins in earnest. Bannerman whips out his ever-present notepad and jots down some notes. The shrieks are muted by the distance and the doors but it is still very much noticed. Nonetheless, we down our meals, one team finishing and taking over for one of the two on guard.

  The next day rolls around the same as before, mostly with me not wanting to get up. The morning PT and training, and yes, I do join in, is a nice way to break the day in. We manage to get outside just after the breaking of dawn and exercise in the cool air of the morning. We go through another rendition of training that Lynn has lined up for us, this one using one of the back rooms of the building for small room clearing techniques. We practice until all teams move into the room like a fast moving fog; quietly and quickly but with force.

  We shower, doing the best we can with the limited facilities, and put some food in us before the teams separate on their various missions. Today, it’s Red and Alpha Teams to gather food supplies this morning. Frank found us a Safeway just up the road that we might start with. Walking outside with the teams, I notice a high cloud cover has come over us. The sun shines opaquely through the milky white clouds. The morning still has the feel of a warm day but there is a definite increase in the humidity. The rain won’t be more than a day or two behind if the front continues to weaken the high pressure over us.

  We pile into two Humvees and a transport truck after checking over our gear and equipment one more time. The deep, throaty sound of the semi’s idling and warming up in the lot, light blue smoke rising from the chrome stacks just behind the cabs, echoes across the still morning. The breeze that sprang up the night before is absent. The sounds of vehicles starting add to the noisy activity beginning to take place. A billow of dark smoke from the exhaust of a crane near the partially constructed wall indicates activity beginning on the wall as well. This is the daytime; it is our time and we have to make the best use of it.

  We pull out just ahead of the trucks and other vehicles on their way
north to commence gathering pieces for our perimeter wall. We add to the radio traffic letting Frank know we are on our way. We’ll call at our destination which is only minutes away. The others will take twenty or more minutes to reach the area they are heading to. The convoy of vehicles parts at the Interstate as we continue ahead along a five lane thoroughfare. The traffic lights hang dark above as we pass through several intersections and arrive at the Safeway. The streets and parking lot are strewn with paper and other trash. It looks like the night runners partied at night and left their leavings behind.

  There are a few columns of lighter smoke in the area drifting lazily into the air. Some of the fires from the day prior are still burning in places. The smell of smoke almost overcomes the ripe odor of rot that has become predominant. Hopefully we can stay ahead of the game there; taking care of the bodies before disease has a chance to become rampant. As if in answer to my thoughts, several fire trucks pass by as we pull into the parking lot in front of the store.

  Exiting with the sound of the trucks diminishing into the distance, I call Frank with our arrival and examine the store front. I was hoping it would be a glass front store as a lot of these store types tend to be. The glass front would allow a lot more light inside and would most likely be free of night runners or at least help keep them somewhat at bay. No such luck here. There are two entrance doors, one to the left of the store and one to the right with several panes of glass beside them, but the rest of the store is concrete block. It will be very much like the BX back in the Azores with light extending a few feet inside by the doors but the rest of the interior an inky black.